


Amongst Wildflowers

by itsarealpity



Series: Geraskier Works [7]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, TAD Lyrics, Touch-Starved Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Wholesome, non-canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24318124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsarealpity/pseuds/itsarealpity
Summary: "And for some god forsaken reason I'm still here love like I've always been before."
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Geraskier Works [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1650880
Comments: 12
Kudos: 185





	Amongst Wildflowers

**Author's Note:**

> When my hair is long, my wife braids my hair to help my bad brain days. My hair is growing and I thought what if Geraskier.  
> Featuring lyrics from Fair by The Amazing Devil

They were about a day's ride away from the next town they had set off to. Low on coin, Geralt had been working tirelessly on contracts so they would have beds by the weeks end. Jaskier felt for the man, of course. He looked ragged, the stress pulling at his bottom lids to sink them into the skin of his cheeks. The bard stayed behind on this contract. He had a book that he needed to sift through, full from the last month they had been continually together.

Jaskier settled onto a chair that looked over a field of sheep and wildgrass. The soft breeze tousled his bangs like the gentlest touch from a lover and it brought him content. A small sigh escaped his lips and was taken by the wind. He rifled through his bag, pulling out his leather bound lyrics and let the pages fall open to the ribbon keeping his place. Although his eyes glossed over the pages, not really seeing the messily scratched text swallowing the parchment. His mind drifted away with the breeze and he found himself staring down the road where his companion would be coming from after he finished his job. Soft blue eyes disappeared behind his lids and another sigh, this time not as filled with contentment, left him.

He didn’t know when it happened. Actually, that wasn’t right. He knew exactly the moment he fell for the other. The very first time he ever laid eyes on the man, his heart was smitten. There in that tavern, he would never forget it. His old lute strung over his chest, the bread thrown at him, the drink he stole from the tray, and the way he was corrected on his song by the witcher. Although, the bard fell for many people and quite often too. It was almost a core part of who he was at that point in his life. But that time, it had felt just a little different, nothing like he had ever felt before.

What Jaskier didn’t know was when he really fell deep, so deep there was no going back. They were countless journeys from their first adventure and it felt like they had been travelling for ages. Years and years passed and the bard’s feelings were so close to drowning him, he could feel it so very much at the core of his soul. He could only keep his adoration for the witcher dammed up for so long before it would wholly consume him, dragging him down into the depths of his own heart.

There was no reason that he couldn’t confess his feelings other than the terror that they wouldn’t be reciprocated. He had played out the scenarios in his head for years; which when he thought about that, he knew it couldn’t have been good for him. The witcher was emotionally reserved of course, much like when they had first met. But with the help of some ale or warm summer days, Geralt had shown him a little bit of his heart. Jaskier took those brief moments and clasped them so tight in his hands that they could have been pressed into diamonds. He treasured them more than anyone could have ever known. These little shining gems gave him enough hope that perhaps one day he could finally let his love burst out and swallow up the other man. Perhaps one day they could be more than travel companions and love each other, spend the rest of their days together.

After re-reading the same line of text for about the twentieth time, he finally snapped the book closed. With a roll of his eyes, he tossed it back into his bag and reached for his lute. When his mind wandered along this topic, the topic of Geralt, he could usually make it go away by plucking out a few simple songs he knew well. This time no matter how long he sang or how loud his voice grew in that empty field, the tugging of his heart strings did not waver one bit. He could feel the tension there and it tightened his whole body up and it felt like he would turn to stone there on that chair.

The only thing that brought him out of his thoughts was the sight of the other man crossing the road. As he grew closer, Jaskier could tell that the contract did not go as planned. There was no head in his hands and he looked wounded, holding his side tenderly. Jaskier stood from his seat and leaned his lute against the leg of the chair. He quickly made his way over to the man and asked him if he was alright, which was responded to with a grunt. Following closely after the witcher, he watched as he had to tell the man who hired him that the beast had got away. It wasn’t often that Gealt failed, but when he did, it was devastating to watch. The man cast him away and not a coin was seen.

Jaskier watched after the other man as he took hold of Roach’s reins and began to set off down the road out of town. Wordlessly the bard followed after him, knowing that when he got like this, there was no point in trying to talk to him. They stopped not too far away in the forest after the stare Jaskier was grinding into the back of Geralt’s head became too much. The witcher settled on a fallen tree and peeled his armor away, revealing no blood, which the bard secretly praised the sun for. He approached the other slowly like he was encroaching on a wounded animal. His knees found the dirt at Geralt’s feet and with the utmost of care, he slipped his fingers under the hem of his shirt, revealing a massive and sickly bruise forming over his ribs.

His lids raised and those endlessly blue eyes flicked up and connected with piercing golden ones. Every time it happened, and rarely it did, Jaskier’s heart skipped a beat. He let his hand fall away from the fabric and leaned back to sit on his heels. There wasn’t much to do for it other than rest. The witcher wasn’t the type to rest when he needed to but it wasn’t like he could complete contracts like that. Geralt knew it and he could feel it on his face.

Jaskier didn’t have to say anything for him to nod and let out a defeated sigh. The bard set up camp almost exclusively by himself, shooting a scolding glance at Geralt if he tried to move from his spot. He could almost see the tension in the other’s sculpted jaw from the stress he was under, seemingly stewing in it in his own mind. Jaskier would have given anything to be there, in his brain, to hear his thoughts. The witcher scooted off the log and instead leaned against it, letting his head hang heavy back and his snowy hair fell from his shoulders. This gave Jaskier an idea and with a breath, he summoned the courage to carry him over to sit above the other man. With cautious hands, he threaded his lithe fingers in the strands like winter and combed through them. When he wasn’t met with resistance, Jaskier repeated the action and saw Geralt’s eyes flutter closed and he sighed pleasantly. He let out the breath he held captive and relaxed his body, running his fingers through the coarse hair that blanketed his hands. The bard shifted his legs so the other’s head laid against his lap. He could count the times he saw the other man relaxed on one hand all these years. He had to add another finger.

It made Jaskier’s heart soar, being able to bring the witcher comfort with his touch. The digits working their way through his locks gathered strands up and balanced them in his grasp, very gently weaving them into a loose braid down the side of Geralt’s head. The man relaxed even further and turned his head to allow for better access to the stands there. Jaskier’s chest pounded with excitement. It was the closest they had ever been and he quite frankly didn’t know where to go from there. He decided to add another braid right next to the other, and another one after that.

After what felt like ages sitting there in the forest under the sweet sunset of the spring sky, Jaskier had covered Geralt’s entire head with loose braids, none of them actually tied off but tenderly laid on top of one another. The bard finally came out of his trance when there was nothing left to braid and found that the other man had seemingly fallen asleep on his lap. The sight was like a crossbow bolt straight through his chest. The man he ever so cared for was peacefully laying on his lap like they were long time lovers. He couldn’t help but run the very tips of his fingers along his cheek softly. This seemed to bring Geralt out of his slumber and he opened his eyes after a few blinks.

Jaskier could have had a heart attack. Was what he did not okay? Did he just ruin the moment? Before his mind could take off with worry, Geralt hummed pleasantly and sat up with effort. He paused for a short moment and then cleared his throat. The look in his softened golden irises was that of thankfulness. There were no words but the sentiment was there which Jaskier could have survived off alone for years. The witcher turned back away and went to Roach to get out their supplies for dinner.

That was it. They talked of nothing regarding their intimate moment the rest of the night.

The next morning, Geralt woke Jaskier and he found the braids were taken out but they left a slight wave in those ivory strands. The only evidence that the afternoon before had ever happened. The bard had thought it was a dream but was elated he was disappointed. They continued on to the next village, talking aimlessly as they usually did as if nothing happened.

Until the next time Geralt is low on coin. The clench in his jaw gave away his internal strife and worry that they wouldn’t have beds to sleep in. A storm was coming after all. Jaskier had pulled out his spare reserve of coin and got them beds at a shabby inn on the edge of town. It was something, but it didn’t seem to relax the witcher even as they settled into their tiny room. Geralt’s eyes bore a hole into the floorboards and even Jaskier could feel the chaos that was his thoughts. Feeling only a sense of bravery he had been acquainted with once before, the bard climbed on the bed behind the other and sat on his bootless heels. With a little more confidence this time, he began to wind a small braid into his hair just like almost a month before. Geralt seemed to melt into the touch just as he did the time before. Jaskier gently lowered his head against his chest and soothed his worries the only way he knew how. This time, he made smaller intricate braids and only moved to pull something from his pocket to tie them all in place. A small emerald ribbon a little girl had given him after one of his performances adorned Geralt’s snowy hair.

They continued this well into winter. The witcher would have bad days, days where those sublime and glittering gold eyes would darken dangerously. Jaskier would brighten them with each movement of his skilled fingers. After a while, Geralt would even wear his intricate braids out into town earning compliments from children and admirers. The teasing from others simply washed off him. He seemed to be proud of them.

And yet, they never talked about it. It was always a wordless ritual. Geralt would silently sit with his head in the bard’s lap and Jaskier would know to braid until he fell victim to sleep or when his face softened enough to that look he treasured so dearly. These moments were seldom and it seemingly didn’t change the way Geralt looked at Jaskier, or so he thought. It almost made it worse. He felt that same telltale struggle of his heart threatening to blow almost everyday then. Gods, he loved the man and yet he could never find the words. He made sure that every single time he made a braid in those snow white strands, he put all of his love adoration into them hoping one day Geralt would realise. He even had developed a song that he would sing inside his own thoughts as he braided his hair wherever they ended up. He would move his fingers to the melody, the lyrics never seeing the light of day. No, he never sang it outloud. He had played the song out on his lute when he was alone, but he could never find the soul to let the world hear it. He thought it would break his very fragile heart if his voice told him the things he didn’t want to hear.

One day, he and Geralt had a very long journey and they were both run ragged. Almost collapsing, they had stopped on the side of the road overlooking a brilliantly vibrant field of flowers growing wild that blanketed the entire hill. It was a beautiful sight for the bard and he found comfort in it, slumping on a tree stump chopped in the middle of the flowers to bask in it’s color. Almost immediately, Geralt appeared and sat on the ground in between his knees, leaning his head back for braids. Jaskier obliged as usual, revelling in the sweet touch he only got seldomly. He opted for a french braid this time and the witcher seemed to be grateful for the slight pull on his scalp, humming pleasantly as the braid descended back down his head. Eventually the small noises of satisfaction ceased and he fell asleep against Jaskier’s knee. It brought a sweet smile to the bard’s face that eventually molded into something more along the lines of sorrow. The song he usually sang in his head while he braided stopped and he sighed. His mouth opened and he sang out loud, placing small yellow and purple flowers into the tight braids on geralt’s head with each line.

“It’s not fair, it’s not fair how much I love you,”

He paused softly to make sure the man below him was asleep before continuing.

“It’s not fair cos you make me ache you bastard,”

“And he’ll say,”

“Oh, how unreasonable,”

Another small pause, he felt like his voice was going to collapse in on itself.

“How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do,”

“I’ll spend my days so close to you cos if I’m stood here,”

“Then I’m stood here,”

“And I’ll stand here,”

His voice cracked.

“I’ll stand here with you.”

Jaskier felt a tear run down his cheek and he placed his face in his hands, shielding himself from reality. The reality that he would probably never confess his feelings and that they would never be reciprocated. It had been destroying him all these years and he finally felt like his soul was going to collapse in on itself. It was no use, he would be doing this forever. He might as well leave.

Until a small movement on his leg and a voice ripped his hands away from his face.

“Jaskier…” Geralt was not in fact asleep and he was looking up at him with wonder.

The bard’s face flushed and he felt like his heart was being pulled out through his throat. He swallowed it back down and he stuttered, trying to justify his earlier words that were not supposed to be heard. Before he could finish his sentence, Geralt had climbed to his knees and took his face in his large hand.

He brought their lips together with the utmost tenderness that if they had pressed even remotely closer, they both would shatter. Geralt only parted their kiss to whisper against the other’s mouth.

“I’m sorry for torturing you all these years.”

It didn’t feel real. The love he had for the other man that had engraved itself so deep in his heart suddenly felt lighter than air as if the carvings had never been there. His vision almost blurred with how fast his mind was spinning.

“G-Geralt?” He managed to fumble out as tears welled up in his eyes, this time staining his cheeks with unbound joy.

“It wasn’t fair to you…” He leaned in again and placed another chaste kiss on the other’s mouth, Jaskier making the contact linger as long as he could, “I knew long before you started braiding my hair. Never thought it would bring us that close. I thought I could ignore it, the feelings… But...”

“You-? You- me… too?” Jaskier felt like he was sobbing in the most stoic way, his chest convulsing trying to keep himself upright and still but failing miserably.

“I love you too., I do Jaskier. I only regret not saying it sooner.”

“N-No… don’t I could have said-” He said through tears, hands coming up to wipe away the tears but Geralt beat him to it.

All the years of his pining seemed like nothing then. Like it never even happened, as if it was erased just with those simple three words. He was finally happy, not that any word could really even describe how he felt. It was him, he was the one Geralt loved. The man who gave his life purpose, the man who won over his heart in a way that he never could have imagined, the man who tore his heart apart and put it back together again every time he looked at him. He loved him.

Jaskier raised his fist and gently punched him in the shoulder, no strength left in his body to give it any force. Geralt smiled and took him in his arms and kissed his head as he sobbed into his chest.

And he holds him close just to keep the world at bay  
And when they’re sure no-one can hear them  
He’ll turn to to him to say, he’ll turn to him and say

I love you.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope it made you a little weepy like it did me.  
> You can follow me on twitter for more fics like this one at "dustystarlights"


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